Coronation Surprise
by Religious Truths
Summary: It is suggested that the King should have a Queen, but Aragorn is sure that his chance at love now sails across the sea. But is it so? Please read and review, just my take on the movie really.
1. Ages of Suffering

Note*: This is something I've been thinking of for a while. Aragorn is such a complex character (not saying that anyone else isn't, they are all fairly unilateral), and I wanted to try and capture what he really thinks. It mostly follows the movie. Anyway, if it's not that good, let  me know, and if it is, I'd like to know that too. And I meant to ask this in my last fic too: does anyone have a good elvish dictionary they could send me? My email is rouge11@web.de 

**Disclaimer:**_I do not own Lord of the Rings or Aragorn, though I wish I did. I'm not making any money with this. I'm just playing in The Master's universe. _

Coronation Surprise

The day had come. I could put off my coronation no longer. I love Gondor, and I had grown to think of Minas Tirith as my home – or almost: I was sure I'd consider it my home once I could find my way from my bedchamber to the library and the throne room.  

I have never been eager to take up the crown. I don't shirk responsibility, and I see that I can do more good here than in the forests of Middle Earth, but had the choice depended on nothing but my own desire, I would never have taken up the throne. I love riding alone towards the sunrise in the morning, through the mist and fog, when the earth seems so vulnerable and frail, yet so achingly beautiful. To lie awake at night, in the forest, listening to the trees – when I think of how little I will be able to have these things in the future, my heart truly aches. They say a King can have anything he wants, but the truth is that those things that our very souls most need slip from our grasp. 

There is another reason why I dread taking the throne. This morning, my advisor asked me quite innocently, "And when does my Lord intend to take a wife? For a King without a Queen is very unheard of and most unnatural. It is custom for the King to wed within a fortnight of his coronation."

I did not reply, and I am sure that said advisor was quite put off; I had never yet shown him such open rudeness. But the idea of "taking" a wife struck me to the core, for I was sure the only wife I could ever love was sailing to the West, beyond my reach forever. Whatever lady I would be forced to make my wife by propriety, I felt sure I would hate because of who she was not. 

No one knew where my heart truly lay, except for Eowyn perhaps, who had to experience disappointment so cruelly at my own hands. Whoever was eventually to become my wife, it could not be her; I respect her strength far too much to lock her in a loveless marriage. And apparently my choice was a good one; it seems that she has found love in the Lord Faramir, and it brings great joy to my heart to know that the two will remain in Minas Tirith, at least until their wedding. Whether Faramir will return to Ithilien or stay in the White City I do not know. 

It also pains my heart to see them so happy together. My thoughts are always with my beloved, her whose pendant hangs around my neck. The Evenstar exudes gentle strength, just as the maiden who wore it so long does. But at least I have the joy of knowing that she will sail to the Undying Lands, where she will remain forever young, forever happy, and free among her kin. 

A voice in my mind often says, "_You fool! How could you ever believe that letting her go was kind? You will suffer for a lifetime, but she will suffer for eternity."_  I do not know, and it crushes my soul.  

There! How was that? Let me know if you want me to continue! (YES, I'm shamelessly begging for reviews!). And please someone send me an elvish dictionary, otherwise I feel phony just copying everyone else's phrases. 


	2. Hope and Memory

Thank you so much for the nice reviews! See, I'm so easily pleased… tell me to keep writing, and I will. No happy reunion quite yet… Gandalf giving romantic advice though. 

Coronation Surprise 

Time passed too quickly for my taste. After the Councilors had taken it upon them to hold the Coronation Ceremony, there was no stopping. They fired up the will of the people, most still suffering from the loss of loved ones, and set out to make Minas Tirith appear as she had not appeared in hundreds of years. Though the White City still bore the obvious scars of her last battle, the debris where removed and the walls scrubbed, so that soon the city shone as though aglow from within. 

_Glowing from within… _my heart winced. The Evenstar burned with a steady glow, and Arwen too seemed to. Everything I did or people said seemed to remind me of her. I wondered how I should ever be able to live, knowing that the one I loved would never be with me. 

"I would not think that," said a wise old voice behind me, and I turned to see Gandalf the White stride over to join me where I stood at the balustrade of the balcony, and I silently tipped my head to him in acknowledgment. Gandalf commanded respect from anyone, whether king or elve or peasant, with his powerful aura. "Arwen will be with you always, and her heart will follow you to the ends of the world." 

I smiled a mirthless smile, "I wish that was so." 

Gandalf chose to ignore the sarcasm in my words, "If you wish it to be so, it will be so. She is strong-willed, and once she has made up her mind to do something, it takes a vice stronger than Sauron to stop her."

His words did not help me, they only cut me more. "What of Love? Is her love for her father not a stronger force than all the Armies of Mordor?"

Gandalf nodded slowly, his wise eyes staring into distances I could not comprehend. "That is so, King of Men. You finally begin to comprehend the power of love. If her love for her father is such, what do you think her love for you is?" He glanced significantly at the Evenstar balanced against my chest, "She gave you that jewel, did she not?"

I sighed, "Yes, she did."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," he looked pointedly at the sunset.  

An fist of hope surrounded my chest. "What – what do you mean? Is she not sailing? 

Do you know?" The iron rings that had embraced my heart when I had seen Arwen last, the time when I told her to sail West, threatened to break at the excited leaps my heart was making. 

But Gandalf just hummed quietly to himself. "The Hills are particularly white this year.  It has always signaled good luck for Gondor." He smiled. 

It was infuriating. I knew that Gandalf would speak no more, and that I would have to wait – wait as I had done for the past weeks. Just then, the hobbits Merry and Pippin came bounding around the corner, closely followed by Sam. He was hollering something about a broken carrot. I envied him. He would be able to go home, go back to his life. I was not so sure about Merry and Pippin; they had seen too much of the world to settle back comfortably into the Shire. And Frodo – perhaps for Frodo I felt sorriest. He had saved the lives of all those who dwell in Middle Earth, and his own soul seemed destroyed for it. The glad laugh that had sprung to Gandal's lips when the three hobbits had rounded the corner and completely destroyed the solemn atmosphere died down as Frodo wandered around the corner.  I tipped my head in recognition for what he had done for all of us, and excused myself, sensing that they needed to speak alone. 

I wandered the corridors of Minas Tirith, thinking of what Gandalf had told me. It gave me hope, yet in a way, the hope was more painful than utter despair. I knew now that I could never marry anyone but my beloved Arwen, regardless of how my councilors prodded and cajoled me. There would always be the tantalizing thought of "_What if she returns?"_  It seemed like she was so near me, and yet so far away. 

Night fell slowly. It had seemed that time had slowed down since I spoke with Gandalf. It was no more bearable. The dinner hour came; it was the night before the Coronation and everyone was excited. I felt lost in all the hope and joy that bubbled around me; I was an island in an ocean. Pippin was speaking with me, and Eowyn and Faramir were recounting the story of some adventure they had had while riding out this day. I realized that my inattentiveness would be perceived as rude,  and gave up all pretense of civility and excused myself. 

I went to my bed chamber, and lay down, thinking of how empty the big bed would always be. I fell asleep, but I did not dream pleasant dream. I was chasing something, a golden light, through the depth of a wood, but it kept on evading me, until I was so deeply entwined in a jungle of leaves and branches that I could not find my way out. Suddenly, the sound of rushing water filled my ears, and the forest was washed away by a sea of ice-cold water. I felt myself drowning, closing my eyes in regret. And all along, I felt the presence of Arwen, as though she lingered behind a silver veil, and if I could only pull it away, I would see her. 

I woke up gasping and the water disappeared, but the feeling of Arwen's closeness. I stood up to get a glass of water out of the pitcher that stood at the far side of the room, but was drawn to the window instead, where silver moonlight was pouring in. 

A wave of loneliness overcame me. It was a night like this that reminded me most of my beloved  – silver, regal, and ethereally beautiful. "_Arwen…"_ I whispered. 

And then I put my face in my hands and wept. 

_There. How's that? Please review. _


	3. Treasures of Old

There! I'm finally getting to update this chapter. Sorry for the long wait! Please review though. 

Coronation Surprise Chapter 3 

I woke up to find sunlight streaming in through my window, coming to rest on my head. I had fallen asleep last night at the window. My eyes were red and burning, and I washed my face with cold water from the jug sitting on the table where my head had rested that night. I stood, and looked out the window. 

The view was breathtaking. Minas Tirith, the white city, shone in all her splendor, and the people below where busy at work, preparing for the festivities of the day: the Coronation of the New King. 

Today, these people would be my people. In taking up the throne of my ancestors, I was also taking up the responsibility to protect these people. They trust me. I only hope that I am equal to the role. It is seems hard to believe that this day is here. More than sixty years ago now I was told that I was the Heir of Elendil, and that this was my path. 

The next day, I met Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of her People. I saw her walking in the woods, and it seemed to me that I was walking in a dream, and that I beheld the figure of Lúthien Tinúviel. It was not that maiden of legend – but another. Never in all my life have I beheld a fairer lady… I doubt that even Lúthien could match her in her beauty.

The feeling that Arwen was so tantalizingly close still lingered about me, but in the daylight, I did not feel the wrenching, drowning sorrow that I had felt the night before – only a sad dullness, a resignation to my fate, though Gandalf's words still haunted my ears. Elrond had told me that I was worthy of Arwen and his blessings only if I became King of Gondor and Anor. Now, I was king, but Arwen was gone. 

A knock on the door brought me out of my unpleasant musings, and a young boy came in, carrying my breakfast on a silver plate. He bowed deeply, so deeply that I feared I would have to dive for my breakfast, and then placed the tray in front of me. "My lord," he spoke, "I hope you slept well. Your garments for today have been laid out" – pointing over at a chair covered in fine cloth – " and Gandalf the White Wizard asks that you remain in your chambers until the ceremony this afternoon." The boy looked positively faint after having delivered such an important message.

"Thank you," I simply said, and smiled at the boy; I was glad that I would have at least this morning to myself. I was sure Gandalf had something to do with it. 

After the boy had left, I glanced at my breakfast. Though I had no appetite, my instincts told to me eat when I could, and so I did. The food was good, a lightly prepared meal consisting of mostly fruit. After I had eaten as much as I could, I rose and paced the chambers, exploring the room one more time. I had looked most everywhere, but I felt that there was still some secret that it bore. 

I ran my hand along the wall, and over the tapestry that covered it. It was an intricate weaving done by someone who was obviously very talented – though perhaps not as talented as the elves. The scene depicted the forging of the Silmarilli by Fëanor. Looking at it I felt a stab – it depicted the lands of Valinor, where Arwen would roam for all eternity. 

I traced the jewels that had been sown into the fabric, and suddenly I felt that there was some sort of an indentation or impression in the wall, and I pulled back the tapestry to get a closer look. 

I found myself looking at an ornate door. It appeared to be made of very light wood; I would not be surprised if it was elfin-made. I gently pulled the latch string – for it had no doorknob – and the noise that it made when I opened the door showed that it had not been opened for many ages. I stepped into the room, and immediately a cloud of dust set upon me. I coughed and covered my mouth with my sleeve, and peered through the dust into the eerie twilight of the room. 

There were faint beams of sun coming through faded though heavy curtains, and the air smelled of strange and exhilarating scents of long-ago ages. It seemed like the solemnity that filled the room now was foreign to it, that it was meant to be a place of joy and laughter. I strode across the floor feelingly, almost reverently, and slowly drew back the heavy curtains, letting full sunlight into the room for what was probably the first time in ages. 

I inhaled sharply as I took in the features of the room. There was a very old fashioned little cradle, with a faded white covering on one end. The floor was made of gleaming marble, as everything else in the castle was, but there were soft, thick woven rugs covering it.  A little, elfin-made rocking horse stood in one corner, and there were shelves filled with toys and books, most of which where inlaid with jewels and decorated in shining mithril. A tapestry with the bejeweled Tree of Gondor hung on one side of the wall, and there was a comfortable, sturdy looking rocking chair in the corner by the window across from me. The chamber was wide and airy, and looked as though it was made for sunlight and a fresh breeze. I drew the rest of the curtain back and fully opened the window, and let the room breathe. 

I wandered over to the little crib. There were branches and leaves carved into it, and little flowers with tiny gems. Inside the crib there was a soft and downy blanket made for soft little heads, though now only dust rested there. I ran my hand along the carvings in a sense of wonder. I wandered around the rest of the room. On one shelf, I found a bejeweled sword that was light as air and blunt as water; it seemed to have been intended for tiny warriors. And on another shelf, there was a little doll with a regal but friendly face, dressed in the most exquisite and most outdated clothes I had ever seen on anyone. The books in the shelves where filled with beautiful illustrations of legends and stories – some I knew, and others I did not. 

I wandered around the room in amazement, as though in a spell. This room was made for the royal children, and the toys must have been gifts from the Kings and Queens of old; their worth I did not even dare to guess at. I had seen treasures such as these in the House of Elrond. When one King after another died childless, this room must have been sealed up and forgotten about. 

I felt lucky that I had found it. 

_There! That's done… another one in the works… please review! I_


	4. The Cradle of Kings

Here's another chapter… hope you like it… please review. No happy reunion yet! I'm still trying to figure out Aragorn's character… kind of difficult… I want to get past the romanticism and see what else there is.

Disclaimer: Some of this stuff is Tolkein's, and other lines are Viggo Mortensen's. They did not actually spring from my mind. 

Coronation Surprise: Chapter 4 

I wandered around the room in amazement, as though under a spell… I felt lucky that I had found it. 

_­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_

Finally, I came to stand at the window. The view was almost the same as the view from the bedchamber, breathtaking and magnificent. I felt strangely at peace. Perhaps the chamber signified everything that I could never have: my love, children. Perhaps it meant that Gondor would fall to ruin eventually, the line of Kings forever ended. 

But I have found who I am. 

I am not the One Hero. I can see the cracks, and the imperfections. Not one of us here is perfect: not Gandalf, not Legolas, not Frodo, not even Arwen. All we can do is take the time we are given and chose. 

Perhaps I will fail my people, perhaps I will fail Gondor. I might never see Arwen again. But I cannot let all these fears and doubts overcome me. I am Elendil's Heir, bearer of Andúril, the Flame of the West, forged from the Sword that was Broken. And I will become who I was born to be. 

I look out the window again, and I see differently. I do not see men trusting me blindly because they know no better. I see men, who are grown and noble and who have overcome many trials, looking to me and trusting their faith to me. They will not let me lead them like blind sheep that are lead by a Shepherd, they will guide me and consult me when I flounder. I know that they trust me to do my duty and not fail, so I must trust in them. 

The question is not whether I want this role. I have been given it and will make of it what I can; my destiny has fallen into place with every step that I have taken since Elrond told me of it long ago in Rivendell. I fear the Throne, because the striving for this power was what led to Isulder's fall. But I do not seek it for the sake of power. I seek it that I might do some good. I accepted the role of King when I walked the Paths of the Dead, and the Dead would not have followed me if I were not true in my heart. 

I have known all this for a long time. It is just now that I have come to accept it. 

With this revelation, a feeling of gladness rushed through me, a thrill that comes not from inside me but from outside me. A ringing of bells rushes through me, and I feel dizzy. It is not the destiny that I have come to claim, but the destiny that claims me. 

I have seen, for a moment, with such clarity into the very depths of my being that it startles me. The clarity begins to fade, but the surety does not. I gaze once again around the chamber, and it seems that I should thank it for what it has given me. It is truly the nursery of Kings. 

 I do not close the windows or draw the curtains as I leave. I draw the door quietly shut behind myself, and draw the tapestry back over; I do not wish for it to be seen by others, though I do not know why. 

I look back around my own chamber, and I see it differently. I am not a guest in the room any longer. It has become mine, and it now longer appears so unfriendly. It is not a cage. Claiming my place on the throne will not set me apart from the world, it will make me a part of it. Endings and beginnings….

Today is the day that I will end my self doubt. 

Today is the day that I will begin to live my destiny. 

I see now that I do not do this for Arwen. I love her, and I know she loves me; I have faith that she will carry her love with her wherever she goes and will make that place brighter for it. Our union is greater than my existence or her existence ever could be, and it will live on. I carry her in me and there is none who shall ever part us. I do not regret. Perhaps this is what Gandalf was trying to tell me, I do not know. But Arwen has shown me love, and it would be errant to be consumed with sadness. I will live and not succumb. 

I stride over to the chair where my robes have been laid out. I dress quickly. The cloak is red; not the faded red that I sometimes wore as a ranger, but strong, confidant and living red. 

Gandalf himself comes to my door. His robes shine, and the power of one who knows much is about him. He looks at me with clear shining eyes. I do not know what he sees. 

"Come," he pronounces, "It is time."

It is. 

_New chapter coming very very soon I hope. If people review. I know this is a bit different from the other chapters (it's supposed to be), but I felt that just having him pining and sorrowing for his love would misrepresent his character. I hope the chapter is okay! Happy reunion coming up…._


	5. Crowns of Renewal

Okay… here it is! The chapter we've all been waiting for… Anyways, I think I'll end this story here, though I might continue Aragorn's thoughts about his marriage and other events either in this story or in another one. Let me know if I should do that, or maybe write a story from Arwen's perspective, whatever really…

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings (my precioussss), and some of the lines are out of the book (faithful Tolkein-shippers will know which ones, to everyone else, I suggest: READ THE BOOKS. The first one is a little drab, but it gets better from there.)

And, without much ado, I present…..

Coronation Surprise: Chapter 5 

_Gandalf himself comes to my door. His robes shine, and the power of one who knows much is about him. He looks at me with clear shining eyes. I do not know what he sees. _

_"Come," he pronounces, "It is time."_

_It is. _

_­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_

The sun shines bright. I am standing at the gate of Minas Tirith; it has been repaired and wrought in Mithril by the dwarves of the mountains, Gimli Gloin's son's kin. The gate is to my back, and the sun shines off it, I can feel it warming my back. 

The street is lined with people, my people; they hold many flowers in their hands, and more flowers yet crown the many stone houses. Children laugh, and it gives me hope: Minas Tirith will not fail again. 

Trumpets sound from within, and all becomes quiet. There, walking slowly into the glowing sunlight, stands Faramir, Son of Denethor. He comes and kneels before me; it is strange, for he is my friend and I would not stand upon such ceremony. I look around and see the Lady Eowyn standing behind the Lord Faramir, beside her brother Eomer-King. She smiles, and it is a happy sight.  

Faramir speaks, and says, "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office."

I smile, and reply,"That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thine heirs' as long as my line shall last." Perhaps it shall outlast my line and the House of Telecontar. 

Then Faramir turns and speaks in a clear and powerful voice that surprises me; I have never heard him save soft-spoken. "Men of Gondor!" he says, "Hear now the Stewards of this Realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Númenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"

And I hear men, women, and children shout in yea in many voices. And amidst all the noise, I cannot help but wonder how Faramir managed to learn all my names. 

The Steward and his Lady, and the King of Rohan step aside, and I walk slowly. It is a long way, but I walk every step of the seven levels of Minas Tirith. And on every level are people, people who are happy, and I am happy with them. 

At last I reach the highest level, where the tower of Ecthelion stands. On the top of the steps of the citadel stands Gandalf the White, Mithrandir as the people here call him, and before him, resting on a black pillow, lies the Winged Crown of Gondor. The path here is lines with all those people that I know best: the Hobbits, the Dúnedain from the north, and Faramir and Eowyn and Eomer stand here too. I see the steps before me, and I begin to climb. 

Though they are but short, the time seems very long to me. It feels like an embodiment of all my struggles and my self doubts, but as I reach the top the struggle becomes easier. At last, I kneel before Gandalf. He smiles at me kindly, and repeats the lines I have heard to often from fairer lips:

_All that is gold does not glitter, _

_Not all those who wander are lost,_

_The old that is strong does not wither, _

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost. _

_A fire from the ashes shall be woken, _

_A light from the shadows shall spring, _

_Remade shall be the Sword that was Broken, _

_The Crownless again shall be King. _  

And then, he says, in a ringing voice, "Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"

I looked up at him, and my eyes met him. And then he set the crown upon my head. 

It seems that the sprits of all those who bore that crown before me rush through me. I feel an enormous power rush through me, and I realize with some sadness that I cannot turn back now; the life of a ranger has forever slipped from my grasp. I am bound to my people until the end of time. 

I stand, and the people behold their King for the first time. They are silent, and in the silence, a wind seems to come and brush past me. It brings with it words, and the words come forth in song from my mouth, though it is not I who produce them:

"Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan at Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta."

Out of the Great Sea to Middle Earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world. 

I walk down the steps that are now so easy to descend, and the people cheer. The lady Eowyn laughs, and Gandalf looks on happily. Merry and Pippin look as though their grins might swallow their faces, and even Frodo smiles. 

Suddenly, flowers begin to fall – white flowers, _elanor_, and green leaves, and I hear the choirs of Elves. They walk slowly up the path, the sky behind them. One bears a great Standard, on it flowers a White Tree, and Seven Stars are about it, and a High Crown. In front strides Legolas, clad in silver and green. 

"Hannon le, Legolas," I say. Thank you. There is much that has been given. 

But Legolas does not answer. Instead, he smiles, and looks to the side. There stands Elrond, and next to him, the maid that bears the great Standard. 

She steps aside, her head shyly bowed. It is covered in fine mithril, a crown of silver against dark brown hair, and beneath it the most lovely face on this Middle Earth. 

It is Arwen. 

Time stops, and there are none in my world but the lady that stands before me. I dare not touch her for fear that it is a dream, but I have to. My hand touches her cheek, and her skin is so soft and so real. She looks up at me, and her eyes meet mine. 

A joy so strong and a pain so great overcomes me that I fear it might tear my heart. It seems that every emotion I have felt – sorrow, doubt, love, fear and hope – wells up and my heart overflows. And then, my lips meet hers, and the kiss awakens all that I have though dead. I spin her around in a circle, and she laughs and weeps. 

My joy like a sword, I pass in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness. 

And Arwen is there. 

_There. That's that… so… here at the end of all things…  I love the reunion part, and I still want to continue on from this moment. Should I?_

_As always, reviews are appreciated! _


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